


Paris Dream

by YohKoBennington



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Coffee Shops, Fingering, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Mating Bond, Musicians, Self-Lubrication, Slow Burn Romance, True Love, Werewolves, a/b/o dynamics, alpha!Jared, omega!Jensen, touch of rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3138059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YohKoBennington/pseuds/YohKoBennington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen, a musician and Omega, travels to France after being dumped by his boyfriend. Alone in the city of love he seeks inspiration for his latest album, never thinking he would find his mate until a handsome Alpha from Texas stole his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paris Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Reverse Big Bang 2014.  
> First thank you to the mods of spn_reversebang for putting this challenge together and all the effort they put into it.
> 
> Thank you to my artist nanoks for not only making all these gorgeous art, but for being such a sweetheart and making my first RBB the greatest of experiences. You're super awesome ♥  
> Her art post is [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3135590?view_full_work=true)
> 
> To my beta ferrous_wheeler, for beating this story into shape with your extraordinary beta skills and great suggestions. This story is so much better because of you ♥
> 
> And a special mention to petite_madame for taking the time to answer my questions about parisian life. Thank you, you're the nicest of them all.
> 
> As a note I want to make clear before you read this fic, that while it's A/B/O it's a different take on the dynamic because it's a slow burn romance (seriously, I gave myself UST writing this). So if you are expecting them to get it on in the first part, this is not the fic for you xD
> 
> I enjoyed writing this story very much. I hope you enjoy reading it.

 

 

**~*~**

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

The cottage is cozy. That's the word Jensen is going for. The living room, kitchen and dining room are all together. One room and bathroom down the hall that has a bookcase on the wall. Alright, that's cute. He's so going to add that to his house back in the States.

Jensen slumps on the couch occupying most of the wall opposite to the dining table and kitchen. Well, this is it. Nondescript place, in a small town just an hour and a half from Paris, with the amount of people that will recognize him down to zero.

This is what he wanted: a break. A chance to just breathe and be by himself.

He stares at his guitar case and suitcases by the door.

Two months of complete peace.

No bodyguards following him around. No paparazzi trying to get every single picture and story of him, as if they don't have enough already. None of his personal entourage making his busy life easier. No label executives breathing down his neck, asking about his next album.

He could get used to this.

 

~*~

Jensen finds pretty quickly where to get his caffeine intake. He encounters the place by accident, really, while walking around the town to see what it has to offer. There's a coffeehouse right on the corner of the square called _Le Grand Chat_. The sweet aroma of _just_ made coffee drags him in, and soon he's sitting at one of the tables on the terrace that has a perfect view of the cobblestone street while giving some privacy to enjoy the food at the same time.

“Bonjour, Monsieur, s'il vous plait, puis-je prendre votre commande?”

Jensen looks up, and up, the narrow waist and built shoulders, until he's faced with a mop of hair and warm eyes. It takes him only a second to smell the distinctive scent of an alpha, but the guy's posture is so relaxed Jensen doesn't feel threatened by it. He's been around many alphas in his life, and while they are not all the same, and things have changed over time to the point that omegas are more independent before having a mate now, there are still some hot-heads that think that because he's an omega he should roll over and just get claimed - he has a list of broken noses under his belt because of that. But, he has to admit that if he was interested in complicating his life again, he would do it for someone as hot as his waiter.

The alpha looks at him expectantly.

“Uh, trés bien?” Jensen blushes, he knows next to nothing of French, something he should had thought about before coming here. But to be fair, he wasn't planning to ever leave his cottage, so it's not like the language barrier was at the top of his mind when organizing his escape —uh, vacation.

His waiter—Jared as it says on his nametag— smirks knowingly. “American?”

“Yes.” Jensen sighs, feeling the flushing heat spreading down his ears and neck.

“May I please take your order?” Jared amends, smiling softly.

Jensen manages to ask for some coffee and sandwiches that sound like something he should try, without making a bigger idiot of himself. Once done writing the order on his notepad, Jared goes back inside to fetch Jensen's order.

Jensen avoids following Jared with his eyes by pointedly staring back to the road and not at Jared's ass.

The food and coffee are truly amazing. It's true what they say about French people being the masters of good cuisine. Once Jensen's done moaning internally, Jared approaches his table.

“Everything fine, sir?”

If Jensen didn't know better there's amusement in his tone. Maybe he didn't hide his enjoyment as well as he thought. “This is where I actually should say 'très bien', isn't it?”

Jared chuckles . “You're right. Your French is very good, though.”

Jensen snorts. “That's pretty much all I can say.”

“At least you do it right.” Jared appraises.

“Well, your English isn't bad either.”

Jared chuckles. “That's because I'm a purebred Texan.”

“That explains a lot.” Jensen laughs. “I knew I could hear a familiar accent within all that well-spoken French.”

“I do try.” Jared says proudly. “Alright, I won't take any more of your time. Here's your bill. You can pay inside at the cash register.”

“Thank you, Jared.”

“My pleasure,” he drawls, giving Jensen a wink.

Once Jensen has paid for his meal, he walks outside and looks back to where he came from… and stays there until it's painfully obvious to him that he has no idea how to get back to the cottage. _Great, this is fantastic_. He scratches his neck and sighs, annoyed. Jensen glances back to the stretch of the street, trying to figure out if he took the corner just before the coffeehouse or the one before that.

“You look like you could use some help.”

Jensen nearly jumps out of skin, and turns to see Jared right next to him. “What gave you that impression?”

“You’ve got a very expressive face.” Jared shrugs. “Anything I can help with?”

Jensen tries not to blush at the comment about his face. He's heard it before, and it makes it harder for him to pretend what he's not feeling, which is not a great quality when millions of people are looking at you.

He considers for a minute whether to go through the embarrassment of admitting he’s lost, or act like he has everything under control. But, the more he stares at the street, the more he's convinced there is no way he'll make it back alone.

“I can't remember how to go back to my place.”

“Oh.” Jared simply says, no judgment in his voice. “Do you know where it’s located? I could point you in the right direction.”

That’d be swell if Jensen hadn’t forgotten the name of his street.

Jared, noticing his distress, quickly adds, “You could also tell me what was close to it. I know this town like the back of my hand.”

“It's close to the edge of the town? There's just trees at the end, about five minutes down to my right?” Jensen explains, trying his best to remember. “Oh! I went by a bakery. About fifteen minutes into my walk.”

Jared listens intently, and nods. “Okay, that must be _Bleu Rue_ , it's the only bakery in town. Then you're probably staying at one of the cottages near it.”

“Yes!”

Jared proceeds to explain how Jensen can get back, and Jensen listens, but at the third direction he's blanking out. How could he think it was a good idea to wander around when he's terrible with following directions?

“You didn't get anything I just said, did you?” Jared chortles.

“Huh?”

Jared shakes his head, fighting a smile. “Wait right here.”

Jensen blinks, goes to protest, but Jared is already back inside the coffeehouse. Few minutes later he's back with a napkin. “Here. Think you can follow an improvised map?”

Jensen takes the napkin, and follows the lines and squares Jared drew on it. “Yeah, I can follow this.”

“There you go!”

Jensen glances back up. He grins warmly. “Thank you.”

“Get home safe, Mr.—?”

“Jensen.”

Jared nods. “See you later, Jensen.”

Jensen waits until Jared disappears back inside before starting his trip back. He gets home fairly easy, following Jared's map meticulously. When he's safe and sound in his kitchen slash living room, he breathes a sigh of relief.

Later, when he's ruffling through some music sheets, he notices a little star on the map that points out the coffeehouse. Jensen smiles fondly at the gesture, and makes sure to hang the napkin on his refrigerator.

 

~*~

“So, how's it going so far?” Steve inquires, voice a bit echoey because of the long distant call.

“Good. The people here are very nice. The food is beyond this world. I found this place where I go for breakfast and my second cup of coffee. And there's a bakery really close to me that makes these awesome cookies, you have to try them.”

“All that sounds great, but I'm hearing a ‘but’ in your voice.”

Jensen sighs. “I wish I was more inspired.” He sits on the couch, tucking his feet underneath him. “I'm in a beautiful town, in a country full of culture, and every time I try to write something… nothing. I'm completely empty. I should be able to come up with something after spending a week here.”

There's a deep sigh through the phone. “Jensen-”

“It's been six months, Steve.”

“So what? You gotta give yourself whatever time you need to heal. Why you feel you have to rush it is beyond me.”

“I've a contract. I just can't stop doing music because of what happened. Neither my label nor my fans deserve that. _He_ doesn't get to take this from me.”

“This is not about him, or your career. You're supposed to be enjoying yourself. Have some time to get yourself back together without having your label pulling you to a million and one places. Stop working. _This is a freaking vacation_. If you manage to write while you're there, that's just a plus.”

Jensen rubs his hair, shoulders slumping. Of course what Steve is saying makes sense, that's why they are best friends. Steve is the only one who has known Jensen before the stardom era. He's the only one that isn't afraid of calling Jensen out when he's been an idiot, and that understands to a deeper level Jensen's passion for music.

“Listen, bud, I just want the best for you. You can listen to me or not, but you only got two months to sort things out. If I were you, I would take advantage of it.”

Jensen nods to himself. “I know. You're right.”

“I'm always right,”

“What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn.”

“Thank you, Steve.”

“No problem. Now, stop being such a control freak and have some fun.”

Jensen snorts. “Alright, mom.”

“And don't forget to brush your teeth before going to bed.”

Now Jensen laughs. “You're terrible.”

“Call me in a week.”

“I will.”

After hanging up on Steve, Jensen decides to go hang out at the coffeehouse for a while. He changes into something that's not sweats and a three days worn t-shirt. Then he picks up the music sheets scattered all over the place, his notebook and guitar, and puts them on the top shelf of his closet.

Before heading out, he takes a book from the bookcase on the hall with him. He's going to give Steve's advice a chance and try for the first time in years to just be a normal guy having a simple vacation in France.

 

 

_Le Grand Chat_ has become Jensen's second favorite place— the bakery is in first place, but that's a secret. He has carved himself a little corner and comes so often that the owner of the place reserves the same table for him.

Jensen is in chapter five of his book when he takes a break to sip his coffee and sees a familiar figure at the counter. Jared glances in his direction at that moment, and waves. Jensen waves back and marks his book before putting it down on the table.

If Jensen were to be sincere, part of the reason he loves this place is that Jared makes his mornings more entertaining. They don't speak much - normally Jared is just taking his order and delivering Jensen's food - but the tiny conversations they manage to wiggle in-between have been enough for Jensen to start looking forward to them.

Jared walks out to the terrace with a paper bag on his hand. He's not wearing his normal white shirt and black slacks uniform, and Jensen gets to appreciate how the jeans hug his strong legs, and the short-sleeve fitted T-shirt leaves no doubt of the muscles in his arms as he takes a seat next to Jensen.

Jensen slaps himself mentally. _Christ,_ what's wrong with him. He has to stop thinking about Jared this way. It's dangerous and will end up with him making a mistake he'll regret.

“Hey,” Jared says, oblivious of Jensen's internal battle.

“Hi, what are you doing here? I thought you have the afternoons off?”

Jared's eyes glint as he grins. “I do. Just came by to pick up some grub to take home. Adrien always makes this cheese soufflé that's to die for. You should try it next time.”

“I'll keep it in mind.”

They fall into silence suddenly. Jared stares at Jensen in concentration. Jensen swallows, mentally chanting _please don't ask me out_. He might not be strong enough to say no. There's something about Jared that pulls him to want things he's not ready to give. And if he says no, their friendship will be ruined.

“I've got a confession to make,” Jared starts.

Oh no. Here we go. Story of Jensen's life, everything always has to be ruined by their stupid instincts. “What's that?”

“I know who you are.”

Jensen blinks. “You do?”

“Yup. My little sister is a big fan of yours .”

“Oh.” So all this time Jared just got close to him because of that? Somehow that is so much worse.

“It took me a while, though, at first I didn't recognize you at all. Then yesterday I came upon this article about you on the Internet and almost smacked myself because I should’ve known by your name and face.” Jared scrunches his nose.

Jensen exhales, relieved. “It's okay, I'm not offended about it.” He smirks, the weight of his fear lifting. “I'm sort of hiding right now, so if no one recognizes me it's much better.”

Jared beams. “Your secret is safe with me.” And, to get his point across, he does a zipping gesture over his mouth.

Jensen chortles. “Thank you for that.”

“So, is France all you dreamed it to be?”

“I've done nothing since I got here, so I can't really answer your question.”

Jared stares at him slack jawed. “That won't do.” He shakes his head. “If you're going to take time to make a trip to Paris, you gotta experience everything from it. From the well-known places, to the ones only local people,” he points at himself, “know about. That's how you do France, Jensen.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “You feel really strongly about it, huh?”

“So much, that it's my duty to show you all you're missing.”

“You've gotta work.”

“Only in the mornings. The rest of the day is ours to explore the wonders Paris has to offer.”

“You don't have to do that. I don't want to take your time.” It's very nice that Jared wants to do such a thing, but Jensen would never impose like that.

“Excuses, excuses. You're not going back to the States without making your own happy memories of this place.”

Jensen gapes. “You're serious.”

“Like a damn heart attack.”

Jensen considers him. If he takes the offer he'll be following Steve's suggestion like he knows his friend meant for Jensen to do. He'll have somebody that knows where to go, and that he has a good time being around.

But what does all of it mean to Jared?

“Jared, listen, the offer sounds great, and I would like to take it, but I have to make something clear first.”

“I'm listening.”

“We're going just as friends. If you're expecting something else to happen, you'll be disappointed.”

“No problem. This is the friendliest offer that ever friended.” He raises his palm up, “I swear.”

Jensen breaths in, hoping he won't regret this. “Alright, then. Show me Paris.”

 

 

 

 

In just two weeks with Jared as his tour guide, Jensen has gotten to climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower that he's only seen quickly and from afar the last time he was in Paris for a concert; ridden a boat on the river Seine as they chit chatted and made further plans; and visited the most impressive art collection at the Musée d'Orsay and other museums, because if there's something Paris has to offer in abundance it’s those. Jensen's favorite is strolling through the Luxembourg Gardens as the sun sat high on the sky, and Jared telling him stories about his first year living in France and taking pictures with that old camera of his that’s always around his neck. Even the train rides, though long, tiresome, and with not-so-good food, have become part of the tour with the mix of tourists and their maps, the locals having discussions in French, and the union workers at the station that seem to always be on strike and stand with signs citing their demands.

Jensen's so relaxed and cheerful through the whole thing, that he doesn't mind when a couple of fans recognize him under his baseball cap and sun glasses, or cares that his identity might be comprised because of it. He gladly signs autographs and takes a picture with them, before continuing his parisian adventure with Jared.

Steve is more than happy to hear that he's done his job nagging him, and declares that Jensen doesn't have to report to him until he comes back. And, before Jensen hangs up on him, manages to give _Jared_ — and yeah he drawls it out like a fifteen year old girl — a salute from his part. Jensen would be more annoyed if he wasn't so used to Steve's little antics.

The following week, Jared starts to take him to places no brochure will ever show. Villages that tourists barely know, full of old churches, farms, cozy shops, and pubs. With people so colorful and full of life that Jensen starts to take his notebook with him because the napkins he's been using stop being enough to write down the words this whole experience inspires in him. And when the full moon comes, Jared takes him for a run the whole night long, through land after land of pure green uncivilized planes until their muscles burn with exhaustion and their blood pumps so hard their wolves howl, content.

It's the most fun he's had in so long that he had forgotten life can be this easy and carefree.

Jensen can't believe after these two weeks that he ever thought staying at his cottage wallowing could be enough. And it's all thanks to Jared. No matter how strongly he's fighting it, each day that he's exposed to Jared's charisma, intelligence, and dorkiness, Jensen falls a little more for him. It doesn't help that his body ignites whenever Jared touches him softly and fleetingly; that his alpha scent is so warm and inviting, Jensen has to force himself not to jump him.

He can see Jared feels it too. Not even a blind person could miss the static energy that surfaces when they are together. And while Jared has done his best to keep his promise to Jensen, sometimes, when he thinks Jensen isn't looking, he lets his feelings show, and Jensen has to stop looking because it elates and scares him all at the same time to be the recipient of such raw emotions.

Jensen doesn't deserve it. Not when he can't give Jared what he wants because he can't have his heart broken again. He can't give himself to someone else without fearing the worst anymore. That's not being fair to Jared, and the last thing he wants is to hurt him. But it's getting too hard to be the clear-headed one as time passes, and the reasons why this shouldn't be are becoming small in comparison to what his heart wants.

Jensen stares down at his notebook, verse after verse filled with the words he doesn't dare to say aloud; his last rebellion against what's already unavoidable. He glances back up to where Jared is taking a picture of a father and son fishing on the lake that extends in front of them. There's a finesse to how he takes his pictures; it isn't like anybody else who takes a picture because the landscape is pretty. Jared takes his time, finds the right angle, and waits for the right moment to capture the image with his camera. Like an artist painting on a canvas.

Once he's done, Jared walks back towards where Jensen is sitting on the grass.

“Having fun?” Jensen asks, following Jared with his eyes as he takes a seat next to him, close enough their shoulders almost touch and Jensen can feel the heat that radiates from his body.

“I am. You?”

Jensen nods, glances down at his notebook, wedges his pencil in the middle before closing it and snapping the elastic holder into place. “It's really nice and quiet out here.”

“That's why it's my favorite place.” Jared beams, dimples painting his face.

Jensen's heart thuds a little harder in his chest. “You took me to your favorite place?”

Jared considers him for a minute. He does that a lot, and Jensen wonders if it's because he's being careful not to spook him with what he answers. “Why wouldn't I?”

“I don't know. Isn't that the kind of thing that's private? That you share only with people you deeply care for?”

Jared smiles knowingly. “You're right.”

Jensen's heart jumps to his throat. It's the first time Jared says out loud what Jensen suspected. He gapes, frozen, not knowing what to say. Is this the day he succumbs to everything he's fighting off? He's not ready, not by a mile, and yet he wants to shut his brain off and just feel because it's been so long since he let go. This constant whiplash of feelings, it's making him dizzy, and he's starting to not know what's up and what's down.

Jared saves him the trouble. “A friend of mine is having an art exposition in his gallery. Nothing too fancy, just a between friends and acquaintances thing. I was wondering if you would like to go with me tomorrow night?

Jensen clears his throat, trying to compose himself. “Yeah, yeah sure.”

“Great. We can meet at the coffeehouse, as always, around four in the evening so we can take the train. It's just right outside of Paris..”

Jensen nods, still feeling the heat of Jared's semi-confession in his chest.

“Okay, I think we should head back before it gets too dark.” Jared stands up and dusts off the back of his jeans, offering his right hand to Jensen.

Jensen takes it, and pulls himself up, letting go of Jared's hand as soon he's stable on his feet because one minute longer and he'll decide to not let go at all.

The whole ride back home Jensen can't stop thinking about what just happened, and when he gets home his hands hurt from holding the notebook tightly for so long.

 

~*~

Jensen doesn't sleep a wink that night. He's too worked up, his brain running non-stop with the events at the lake and his instincts screaming at him to _just give in_. At some point he ends up on the floor playing his guitar to calm himself down. When morning comes he's so physically and emotionally exhausted that he crashes hard and sleeps until the afternoon. Thankfully he wakes up with enough time to eat something and get ready before having to head out to the coffeehouse.

He still doesn't have an answer to his dilemma when he leaves the cottage.

But when he sees Jared waiting for him dressed in his jeans, shirt and tie, and sporting his silly smile, butterflies tickle in Jensen's stomach. He chooses in that moment to put everything that's tormenting him in the back of his mind.

Whatever happens tonight, happens. He's done fighting.

 

 

The exposition is in a warehouse between two old abandoned buildings. There are people already milling around with champagne in their hands. Jared promptly gets two flutes of the champagne from the waiter going around and gives one to Jensen.

They walk through the paintings, and Jensen spends the whole time holding his laughter while Jared comes out with funny stories of what the artist was possibly thinking while painting whatever piece they're facing.

It might be the champagne he's finished or just how easy things are when he's with Jared, but any tension Jensen had left vanishes quickly and it's like he's floating on a cloud from which he never wants to get down.

Once they're done looking at all the paintings, Jared ushers Jensen to the other side of the gallery. In there, instead of paintings on the wall, it's photographs. Jensen walks in closer, observing a vivid picture of a yellow flower. It's simple, and yet so alive that Jensen is transported to a field full of the same yellow flowers with the sun warming his skin and the sound of nature as his background.

He blinks out of his daze, looks back at Jared who's a few steps back and gives him a smile that Jared returns immediately. Jensen keeps walking down the row of photographs until he comes face to face with a picture of a man and a kid fishing in a lake, and stops dead. He knows that lake. He was there when that picture was taken. Quickly he searches for the artist's name, which he hadn't thought of doing before, and right under the frame there's a plate with _'By J.P.'_

Those are Jared's initials. That's Jared's picture.

Jensen turns to where he last saw Jared, only to not find him there. He frowns, starts to call for Jared, but decides to not bring attention to himself by making noise. Giving the entrance a quick glance, he decides to first search the rest of the exposition before trying his luck in the crowd outside. Jensen walks down the rest of the hall, noticing that all the photos have the same initials, and finally turns a corner to find Jared staring at one particular photo on the wall.

Jensen approaches him silently and stands by his side. He wants to ask Jared about the pictures. It makes so much sense now why he's always carrying his camera around when he's not working at the coffeehouse. Jared's camera is the equivalent to Jensen's guitar - an instrument to express himself through art. And he's very good at it. He glances at the picture in front of him already expecting to find another great photograph, and any question he had disappears when he sees himself in the picture. It's also from that day at the lake; Jared must have taken it when Jensen was preoccupied writing down his song, by the looks of it. The photo is from far away and Jensen's face is not noticeable at first glance unless you know what you're looking for.

“There was something about you, hunched and writing non-stop on your notebook, so peaceful and beautiful with the sunshine hitting your body just the right way, that I just couldn't stop myself from taking a picture.” There's an awe in Jared's voice, the kind artists get when they talk about a piece close to their soul.

Jensen's heart starts beating faster, and his body sings with a wave of want and need.

Jared turns toward him, eyes glinting and open for Jensen to see all of him, and Jensen is moving before his brain catches up with what's happening. Jared's lips are soft and warm, sweet taste of the champagne still lingering, and he kisses back as if his life depends on it. Jared cups Jensen's jaw, tilting his head back as he deepens the kiss and asks Jensen's permission with the sweep of his tongue. Jensen can't help the moan that escapes from the deepest part of him, and gets his arm around Jared to pull him tight against his body as his tongue gets to know Jared's. It's thrilling and explosive, too much and yet not enough. Every cell of Jensen's body calling Jared's to just merge together until where one begins the other ends. Jared bites Jensen's lower lip, dragging it out with a sting of regret for breaking the kiss.

“If I don't stop now, I won't stop at all, and I don't think it's what either of us wants yet.”

Jensen nods dumbly, still drunk on Jared's taste. Jared smiles softly, and gives him a short peck before stepping back. But he doesn't go too far, threading his fingers between Jensen's. “Home?”

“Yeah,” Jensen answers, voice rough, “let's go home.”

 

~*~

After that night, the dam opens. Neither can keep their hands off the other, the desire running so deep and strong that many make out sessions end up with uncomfortable sticky jeans. Even so, they take things slow, spending time watching classic French movies cuddled together in Jared's apartment or eating out and talking until the sun comes up.

It feels right to be with Jared. Jensen's past heartbreak stops being a stone dragging him down and becomes just the path that took him to Paris and ultimately to Jared's arms. And when they start exploring past the soft hesitant touches under their clothes, craving more skin to skin contact, it's just the natural progression. It's certain that some time down the road all will flow smoothly like it's supposed to, because that's part of who they are. It's in their blood pumping through their bodies, instinct pulling them closer and closer to just be free.

But what they have, this mutual ability to give their relationship the time that it deserves, is special. Jensen knows there's no way he'll ever have this with anyone other than Jared, and it scares him how much he's become dependent on Jared in such a short time. There will always be a part of him that can't give it all, that will plant the seed of doubt and make it grow, and it's up to Jensen to snip the stem before it takes over everything.

Yes, he had just met Jared, and there are many things they still need to know about each other for Jensen to feel this strongly about him. But Jensen is happy; Jared makes him smile every day and has made his inspiration return. Isn't that enough?

 

 

 

 

Jensen strums the chords on his guitar, repeating the same notes that he just came up with, makes some tweaking here and there until he's happy with the sound, and then writes the notes down on his music sheet. He doesn't stop until the notes stop coming to him. That's when he glances up to find Jared watching him, silently. They'd been spending a quiet morning in Jensen's cottage after some breakfast, when Jensen got an idea for the notes of one of his songs. He got his guitar, notebook, and music sheets and sat on the floor, forgetting Jared was there all this time. Which is something that always happens when he's composing; he zones out and the only things left are his guitar and the music swimming in his mind.

Jensen scratches his neck embarrassed. “Sorry,”

“Don't apologize. I like to see you making music.”

Jensen grins shyly. “Yeah, well, if I'm ignoring you for too long you are welcome to make your presence known. I don't want to be rude.”

Jared stands from the dining room chair and then lies down on the floor, resting his head on his hand. “Doing that to you would be the rude thing.”

Jensen stares at him, chest filling with a fuzzy warmth he didn't felt himself capable of ever feeling. Nobody but Steve ever understood what it means for Jensen to feel inspired and just having to get all those ideas out before his brain explodes. And then this man right in front of him, who barely knows him, and yet seems to know him more than anyone, tells Jensen he understands too. Jensen falls for him a little deeper right then and there.

“Okay then,” it's all Jensen can manage to say.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“When did you fell in love with music?”

Jensen has been asked a question like that many times before by the press. It usually was phrased with the faked interest of knowing how he became a singer-songwriter, when all they wanted to know is why he gets to be the special one. Those people were just fulfilling a job requirement and were not really interested in what he has to say. He has never talked about the true story before being discovered because it's too close to his heart to waste it on people who don't really care. But Jared calls it what it is: something he loves and needs as much as the air he breathes. There's an eagerness in his voice that speaks of truly wanting to hear Jensen's real story and, for the first time in years, Jensen feels he can tell it.

“My grandpa was a hard working farmer with a knack for inventions and a hobby for music that he inherited from his momma. He always said that his true and only passion was his family, but I still believe to this day that music was his second passion. No matter how things got sometimes, he'd always make things better with a song. He taught all his children how to play different instruments, depending on what they felt more comfortable with, and how to read music so they could create their own. My dad, one of his sons, took a liking for the guitar. He used to play lullabies to my sister and me before we went to bed. Watching my dad and grandpa use music to make other people happy taught me how powerful it can be.”

“Sounds like a great way to grow up.”

“It was. I learned how to read music by the age of nine, and when I hit high school already knew how to play the guitar, piano, and pretty much anything percussion wise. I wanted to be like my grandpa and absorb every bit that music had to offer me, so I set out to learn as many ways to create music as I could. I’m still learning.” Jensen chuckles. “In the middle of my senior year I signed up for a contest at the local roadhouse, where an agent was scouting for new talent. I didn't win, but she approached me and asked for a meeting with me and my parents.”

“Your parents were okay with you becoming a superstar?”

“They were as long I finished high school first and got myself an implant so I wouldn't go into heat until I was ready to have a family. Once I got my diploma, and the implant, I flew to LA and the rest is history.”

“And now you're famous and people die to buy your music,” Jared comments, fascinated. “How's a guy like you still so down to earth?”

Jensen shrugs. “Music is my passion, not just the means by which I make money. If I'm ever forced to make music just to please my label so they can get rich, it will be the day I leave all of it behind. All I want is to brighten someone's day, or hold someone's hand when they're going through hard times. That they can identify with my lyrics one way of another and maybe it will help them to find a way to express themselves, too.”

Jared stares at him with awe written all over his face. “You're more amazing than what I believed you to be.”

Jensen cheeks heat up, and he avoids Jared's eyes trying to get back his composure. He's never been great at taking compliments, most of them flying over his head. But Jared's go straight to his core, and he doesn't know how to react. “Enough about me. Now it's your turn.”

Jared raises an eyebrow. “About my photography?” Jensen nods. “Well, I truly don't know. It just happened one day. Unlike yours, my family is everything _but_ artistic. My parents come from old money, and they raised us to carry the legacy and build a strong career. They believe that if you're not a prominent figure in the community, then you're wasting your life. So, my brother is an alpha who became a surgeon, one of the best in the whole country, and my little sister, a beta, is shaping up her future around a political career.” Jared smiles fondly, “She's probably going to end up being a governor someday.”

“And you?”

“I'm the bad apple. Since I can remember I was never interested in what my parents wanted from us. I hated attending the fancy dinners and charity events that everybody knows is just a way for rich people to dangle how much money they have. I never fitted in. It drove my parents crazy because, as an alpha, they expected me to follow my brother's example and choose a profession that demanded respect.”

Jensen's heart aches for him. He can't imagine growing up and feeling misplaced and unloved by his family.

“In middle school I joined a photography club, just to keep my parents off my back and spend less time at home. Once I started learning about it and taking pictures, something clicked and it became all I wanted to do day and night. I kept learning and adding pictures to my portfolio through the years. I knew my parents didn't approve, and they didn't hesitate to let me know how disappointed they were in me.” Jared sits up, crossing his leg underneath. “I couldn't wait until I turned eighteen and could leave.”

“Jared,” Jensen whispers, fighting to keep himself in check.

Jared shakes his head, eyes glinting with unshed tears. “The opportunity presented itself when I got a scholarship to study professional photography for two years in Paris. I didn't think twice and packed my things. My parents were livid.” He laughs sadly. “I got here and never looked back. I haven't talked to them in five years.”

Jensen moves his guitar off his legs, crawls towards Jared and holds his hands. “I'm sorry your family can't appreciate how talented you are. You say I'm amazing? I think you got it wrong. You're someone that never received love and grew up in a toxic environment where people only care about wealth and power. And yet you're so loving and caring, so full of life that you can find the bright side to even the worst of rainy days. That's what’s really amazing. You're not the bad apple, you're extraordinary, Jared, never let anybody say you're not.”

Jared's eyes well up and a couple of tears run down his face. Jensen gathers him in his arms and Jared hugs back, burying his face in Jensen neck. Jensen holds him tight as he feels the wet, hot trail of tears on his neck and down his shirt, and lets Jared cry silently.

Shortly after, Jared is pulling back and rubbing the tears off his face. “Way to ruin a perfect morning, huh?” He chuckles dryly.

“Hey,” Jensen grabs his face to make Jared look at him. “None of that. Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on.”

Jared holds Jensen's wrist with his hands. “Thank you.”

“Any time.”

“Wow, I haven't talked about that since the day I left. I feel kinda light now.” He laughs, this time sounding more like his happy self.

Jensen smiles softly. “Thank you for telling me your story even when it hurts so much.”

Jared reciprocates. “Thank you for trusting me with yours.”

Jensen kisses the tear stains off his face and then his lips. “Wanna make out until lunch time?”

Jared snorts. “Hell yeah.”

 

 

It's all perfect as the weeks pass until reality comes crashing down on their fairy tale. Soon, Jensen only has one more week in Paris before he has to return the States, and the idea of leaving Jared makes him sick to his stomach.

What are they supposed to do? Where do they go from here? Is Jared going to drop everything, his dreams and the life he’s forged for himself in Paris, to stay with Jensen? Is Jensen not going back to the States?

Neither will be fair, and there's no middle ground other than having a long distance relationship. Jensen knows already how that ends and it ain't pretty.

He has to break up with Jared, there's no other way. Jensen will probably be saving Jared the pain of dating an artist who's under the scrutiny of the public eye and spends half of his year touring. They wouldn't be together and, in time, the distance will ruin their relationship.

They are not mated. They both can walk away and remember these six weeks fondly instead of trying to maintain a relationship that won't work.

It's the right thing to do. It's the responsible way to go.

Then why does Jensen's heart feels like a piece of lead pulling him to the ground?

 

~*~

“You've been quiet since yesterday. Are you okay?” Jared puts their dinner dishes on the drying mat and turns to face Jensen sitting on the couch. “Jensen,” he calls when Jensen doesn't answer.

“I'm leaving next week,” Jensen whispers, each word drowning him. “I'm going back to the States, and you'll be here.”

Jared swallows, and turns his face. He's been thinking about it too obviously. “It doesn't have to end.”

Jensen frowns. “Why? You're going to drop everything and come with me?”

“Yes.”

Jensen stands like his body has been struck by lightning. “Don't say that.” He begs. “You can't do that.”

Jared walks over to him. “I think I'm an adult capable of making my own choices.”

“Jared, it will be a big mistake.”

“We are _not_ a mistake.”

“Yet!” Jensen shouts. “I've been down this road before, I'm not going through it again.”

Jared frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Jensen heaves a sigh. “My ex-boyfriend, Dex, a beta. We met at one my concerts; he was part of the security detail. I wasn't looking for a relationship then, my schedule was even crazier and I hadn't even seen my family in a year. It just happened. He promised me that he understood my kind of life and he was still willing to give it a chance.” Jensen laughs humorlessly. “He did, for four years. And then one day, I found him with his bags packed waiting for me at home. I never saw it coming, Jared. He never gave me any clue that he was over with our relationship. He said he couldn't keep sharing me with everybody else and was tired of me putting my music first, and then he left. That was seven months ago.” Jensen swallows the lump in his throat, readying himself for what's coming next. “So, you see, I already know how it all ends. I think it's better if we stop when no one can really end up hurt, and walk our separate ways.”

Jensen thinks the walking away without getting hurt part might be too late and a complete lie; his hands shake so much he hides them under his arms. Jared is staring at him as if Jensen just smashed his whole world.

“You're breaking up with me?”

Jensen reminds himself he's saving Jared from ruining his own life, and takes strength on the conviction that that's the kind of sacrifice you do for the person you love. The sudden realization just serves to drag him deeper into despair and it couldn't have come at a worse moment, but there's no way of denying the truth that he's utterly and crazily in love with Jared.

Jensen nods. “It's for the best.” He wishes his voice didn't break when he says it.

Jared stays quiet, so long Jensen's resolve starts to die and, if Jared doesn't leave now, Jensen is going to beg him to never leave.

“You should go,”

Jared considers him and takes a deep breath, “I will go.” Jensen's heart shatters into a million pieces. “But I'm coming back tomorrow.”

“What?”

“I'm not leaving you, Jensen,” Jared says with conviction.

“I don't —“

“I heard everything you said. I just don't see it the same way. But I know that whatever I say now will not matter because you think you’ve made up your mind. So, I'm going back to my apartment tonight and be back tomorrow before dinner-time.”

“Jared—” Jensen's breath catches in his throat. This is not how he imagined things would go. Jared was supposed to scream at him, tell him how much he hates him, and any other scenario in which he'd leave to never come back. Jensen had prepared himself for it. He never foresaw _this_ could happen.

“You think about what you really want, from me and for yourself, tonight. And if tomorrow you still want us to go our separate ways, no matter how much it kills me, I'll respect your choice and never see you again.” Jared turns and walks towards the door. “Good night,” he whispers before opening the door and walking out.

Jensen legs give up and he falls on the carpet dumbfounded. The echo of Jared's words hammering in time with the beat of his heart.

 

 

 

Jensen lies on his bed, awake for the better part of the night, thinking about their argument and what Jared said. Torturing himself between picking what he should do and what he wants, what he needs. And missing Jared like a limb he can't survive without. It's the first night he spends alone since they started dating, and the coldness of being by himself again seeps into Jensen's bones making him shiver. One of his pillows still smells like Jared, and Jensen unashamedly dips his nose into it. He finally falls asleep two hours before dawn with Jared's scent surrounding him.

 

~*~

His morning is not much better. Jensen wanders aimlessly around the cottage, only stopping in the kitchen to get another cup of coffee from his new, fancy percolator, the one Jared got him so Jensen wouldn't miss his caffeine dosage if it was raining and he couldn't get to the coffeehouse.

It's there, clutching the bag of coffee between his hands, that it becomes painfully clear that everywhere he turns, everything reminds him of Jared. The sink where Jared would do the dishes for Jensen while humming under his breath one of Jensen's songs. The dining table where they ate meals together and planned their days. The chair in the corner that won't stand on its own anymore because they got too frisky on it one afternoon and broke one of its legs. The carpet where Jensen would sit to play his guitar and sing to Jared. The couch where they spent many evenings reading books with their legs tangled. The image of Jared brushing his teeth in Jensen's bathroom, and the bedroom with the pillow that still smells like him.

Jared painted his colorful mark on every inch of the cottage and Jensen's life, now all of it is muted, as if when Jared walked out of that door he took every shade of color with him.

Jensen drops the bag on the counter and plants his hand on it. _Breathe_ , he tells himself over and over again. But it seems that no matter how much air he inhales, it never reaches his lungs. The first tears fall on the counter, and they won't stop as much as Jensen asks himself to get a grip. His body feels faint with the pain of a future without Jared in it, and Jensen slumps down to the floor, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his head on his folded arms.

How can doing the right thing be so painful? Maybe it's not the right thing to do if the pain he's trying to avoid is already there? What's the right choice anymore?

_You think about what you really want for yourself._

Jensen wants Jared. He wants to spend the rest of his life with Jared. There's not a second in his day where he wants to be without him.

_You think about what you want from me._

He wants Jared to be happy. To want to spend the rest of his life with Jensen, too. For Jared to never leave.

_I'm not leaving you, Jensen._

Jensen blinks, raises his head, and frowns. Jared said he's not leaving him. He said what Jensen wanted to hear, and Jensen was so caught up on trying to push him away that he went deaf on his words.

_I'm not leaving you, Jensen._

It was a promise and a love confession all together.

Jared never planned to leave Jensen, did he?

It's so clear now. While Jensen was counting the minutes he had left with him, and all those times Jensen thought Jared was in denial, he got it all wrong. There was nothing to deny when Jared had already made up his mind. He's been such a stupid idiot. He let the fear ruin what could have been the most amazing thing in his life.

No. He can still _fix this_ , because Jared saved him from making that mistake.

Just like that, sitting on the cold tile of his kitchen floor, Jensen makes up his mind too.

 

~*~

Jared said he would be back by late evening, but Jensen can't wait that long. He's been foolish long enough as it is. He showers quickly, puts on the first jeans and t-shirt that he finds, along with his boots, and it's out of the door before the clock hits noon.

Jared's apartment is two corners down from the coffeehouse - it's an old factory building turned into a four story complex of lofts. Jensen runs all the way there, and is thankful he doesn't need to get buzzed in to get inside. He climbs the stairs two at time and has to take a minute to catch his breath or he'll pass out. It would freak Jared out if he found Jensen unconscious at his doorstep, and very counterproductive. He gets jittery just standing there, the nagging fear that he has screwed up everything with Jared poking him inside. But, he reminds himself that no matter what happens after Jared opens that door, he can be sure of one thing: _Jared is not leaving._

Jensen raps his fist on the door and, when he doesn't hear foot steps inside, he knocks harder making the door shake under his force.

“Je viens!” Jared shouts on the other side. “Où est le feu putain?!” Jared stops in his tracks, door midway open, and stares at Jensen as if he can't believe he's there.

“Can I come in?”

Jared blinks out of his daze. “Yeah, of course.” He finishes opening the door and, once Jensen is inside, closes it, then faces Jensen while leaning against the door. He doesn't look like he slept at all last night either, and Jensen feels a pang of guilt.

“I made my decision…” Jensen starts.

Jared straightens away from the door, dread and sadness in his eyes. “You had until tonight,” he says, faintly.

“I know. I don't need more time.”

Jared nods, resigned. “Alright, what did you decide?”

Jensen regards him, wishing he could take away all the pain he’s caused Jared. “Before I tell you. I want to hear what you wanted to say last night.”

Jared tilts his head. “Why? You already made your choice.”

“Jared, please.” Jensen has no right to ask anything from him, especially this. But the words Jared never said might haunt them forever if he doesn't get to say them.

Jared exhales deeply, giving in. “I'm not leaving you. I don't want to, and I'll never want to. As soon as I met you I knew my life was about to change. I’ve been in love with you since the day you answered me with the only words in French you know.”

Jensen breath stutters.

“Crazy, I know. But it's the truth. And the more time I spent with you that love grew bigger and bigger until all I could breathe, feel, and see is you. I've never loved someone so much like I love you, Jensen.” Jared smiles softly. “And I wasn't going to let that go.”

“What about your life here?”

Jared shakes his head. “My life here? You mean the one where I was all alone, working, serving people during the day just to have something to eat and a place to live? Struggling to get people to notice my photographs and wishing there was something more out there for me?”

“If it was so bad, why did you stay?”

“Because, Jensen, I didn't have a reason to go back - until you.”

It's the confirmation Jensen needed to hear to be sure he wasn't being a selfish asshole dragging Jared away with him. “Okay.”

Jared frowns. “Okay?”

“I'm not leaving you either, Jared.”

Jared’s whole demeanor brightens. He gets closer to Jensen until they are almost nose to nose. “You're not?”

Jensen chuckles. “It would be really idiotic of me to walk away from the guy that I love.”

Jared beams. “No more doubts?”

Jensen shakes his head softly. “You're my _it_.”

Jared inhales. “Are you saying—?”

“I am. Now the question is, are we going to keep talking or are you going to finally claim your mate?”

There's a growl that rumbles from Jared's chest and makes every part of Jensen's body vibrate. When they finally kiss it's with such intensity that teeth are clashing, hair is being pulled, clothes are being tugged, and there’s a little taste of blood. This is mates claiming each other; there's nothing else but them. Jensen is painfully hard in seconds and his pants get damp with all the slick coming out his ass. Jared growls against Jensen's lips, the smell of Jensen’s arousal hitting his nose. Without breaking the kiss, because Jensen follows Jared's mouth not wanting to stop, Jared reaches under Jensen's ass, moaning as his finger touches the wet fabric, and hefts Jensen up in one smooth move. Jensen gasps, surprised, but his legs automatically circle Jared's hips as if they have always belonged there.

Jared walks them toward his bed, all the time Jensen leaving his own mark down Jared's jaw and neck with nips and kisses, getting drunk on the smell of alpha. _His alpha_. Just thinking it sends a new wave of pleasure through his body. Jared throws him on the bed, and wastes no time on getting Jensen naked. He stands at the end of the bed just staring at the plains of freckled skin in front of him.

“Feeling a bit too lonely, here,” Jensen quips.

“You're so damn hot and beautiful.” Jared admires and then chortles, “You blush all the way down your chest.”

“Shut up,”

“I think it's cute.”

“Jared, if you don't get naked right now…”

“You gonna be a bossy mate?” Jared takes his own clothes off.

Jensen is doing his fair amount of staring too, and answers, faintly. “Only when I want to be fucked and my mate is taking his sweet time in doing so.”

Jared crawls over Jensen's body. “Is that so?” He dips down to claim Jensen's mouth.

Jensen moans at the feel of Jared's skin on his. He widens his legs, giving Jared more space to move. Jared pushes down, rubbing his hard cock on Jensen’s, and Jensen has to break the kiss to breathe out a groan. Jared uses the opportunity to taste Jensen's skin, traveling down his neck until he gets to a nipple and takes his sweet time lapping, sucking and biting until it stands up completely. He pays the other nipple the same attention, and Jensen is so turned on he can't stop the little noises that escape from his throat. And then Jared moves a hand between his legs, gathering the slick from Jensen's tight hole.

He circles the rim for a few seconds, teasingly, before breaching it with his long finger. Jensen would have almost shot out of the bed mewling if it wasn't for Jared's weight keeping him in place. He's touched himself in there before, and had sex with his ex, but there's something about Jared's long fingers open him up, one by one, teasing his prostate devilishly, that sends Jensen's body into overdrive.

“You make the most delicious sounds, taking my fingers so deep. Is that how you’re going to take my cock? Get more wet for me to fuck you hard and deep?”

“Oh, fuck,” Jensen almost sobs, body shaking with the pleasure building up.

“Yeah, just like that.” Jared whispers sweetly on his ear. “Just let go.”

Another thrust of Jared's fingers and Jensen shouts, breath catching in his chest, and it feels for a second like he'll never get it back, with wave after wave of pleasure making his body stiffen and his toes curl. But then he's coming down and he can breathe again. Jared has gotten his fingers out of him, and has gone back to leaving traces of him on Jensen's neck. And even after that mind blowing orgasm, Jensen's cock is still hard, trapped between them, because he won't be completely satisfied unless Jared knots him. His body needs to get what it has been calling for all this time and took Jensen so long to realize: he belongs to Jared, and Jared belongs to him.

“Turn around,” Jared orders.

Jensen scrambles to his knees and presents himself to his alpha.

“Such a pretty mate,”

Jensen feels Jared's hands spreading him, and then the Jared's tongue is there, licking a stripe over his hole. Jensen curses, fisting the sheets. Jared's going to kill him tonight if keeps that up. But Jared doesn't stay there long as he's soon moving up and covering Jensen's back.

“Later, I'll make you come just from my tongue fucking you,” he promises, and Jensen whimpers, more slick dribbling down his leg, “because right now, I can't wait to knot you.”

Jensen looks over his shoulder, “Show me what you got, _Alpha_.”

Jared growls deep and then he's aligning his cock with Jensen's hole. Jensen loses his breath for the second time when Jared pushes all the way inside with one thrust. His body sings with the connection of him and his alpha, and he can feel the want pulling in his belly again. Then Jared starts to move, fucking Jensen like he wants them to be one. Jensen becomes a blabbering mess, begging anything and everything from Jared.

Jensen loses his equilibrium when he feels the tugging of Jared's knot getting bigger with each thrust, his body turning into jelly in anticipation of what’s to come. Jared circles his arms around Jensen's torso and pulls him up, making Jensen sit on his lap, and getting his knot inside. Jared tenses, and then he’s biting down next to Jensen's neck as he shoots his load inside him.

Jensen screams, shooting his own release all over the sheets and the headboard. Jared holds him through it, making small thrusting and circling movements that milk every single drop of come from Jensen's body. Jensen goes limp, head falling over Jared's shoulder, as he tries to catch his breath.

Once he's gotten his own breath back, Jared kisses the bite tenderly and noses behind Jensen's ear. “You okay?”

“No. I'm dead.” Jensen jokes, faintly.

Jared cackles, making them moan when the movement tugs at their connection. He arranges Jensen until they are lying on their sides, and then pulls Jensen closer to snuggle him. Jensen smiles widely.

“How long do you think we’ll be tied?” he asks.

“I've no idea. Why?”

“Because I'm starving,” Jensen pouts.

“I'll cook you everything you want once we're free.”

“Promise?”

“Today and every day, for the rest of our lives.”

 

~*~

Jensen is sad to say goodbye to Paris. After all, this place changed his life for the best. But he's also ready to go back home and record his next album. His love letter to Jared.

The loud sound of the speakers making an announcement in French fills the airport.

“That's our flight,” Jared stands and hangs the strap of his carry-on over his shoulder. “Ready?”

Jensen looks up to him, and thinks he's never been more ready. He stands, getting the straps of his backpack over his shoulder. “Ready.”

Jared takes his hand and they walk together towards the terminal.

But what Jensen's more excited about is starting his new life with Jared.

 

 

 

**~Epilogue~**

 

Jensen hangs the headphones on the microphone and steps out of the recording booth. “How was that?”

Steve leans back on his chair. “Great. I think we got it.”

“Okay, can I go home now?”

“Why? Someone waiting for you there?” Steve smirks knowingly.

Jensen glares. “I'm going home. See you tomorrow.”

“Make sure not to come more bowlegged than usual!”

“Fuck you, Steve” He says without any heat, making a ‘you think you're funny but you're really not’face as he opens the door to the hall.

“No, please. Leave that for Jared.”

Jensen laughs and takes the elevator, humming softly a new song he'll have to write down once he gets to his car.

Going home always puts him in a great mood now - Jared is waiting for him there.

 

~*~

Once they got back, it didn't take the gossip press too long to find out about Jared. A picture of them holding hands as they left the airport was plastered on the front page with the title “Jensen Ackles got himself a French hunk” in pretty much every magazine. Which, okay, the last part is true about Jared, but he's far from French. Jared thinks the whole thing is hilarious and spends the rest of the day throwing random French words at him.

Jensen's manager, Samantha Ferris, convinces him to release a press announcement that he's now mated to stop the gossip and constant harassment from starting. Jared takes the publicity and Jensen's long working days while recording his new album in stride. He finds ways to spend time with Jensen like a magic trick, and Jensen is so thankful for that.

When the album is ready, Jensen persuades Jared into being the photographer for the album's booklet, and Jared, of course, doesn't disappoint and takes so many amazing pictures that the label and Jensen have a hard time choosing which ones to use. The end result is that someone in Jensen's label hooks up Jared with other photo shoots until Jared gathers quite the group of clients that want him not only for booklets, but magazine articles, billboard promos, and more. Jared finally gets the recognition he so deserves, and Jensen couldn't be more proud of him.

Their lives fly to the highest point of the sky.

 

~*~

Jensen blinks awake, a stripe of sunshine landing on his forehead. He turns his face, grunting; he's not ready to get up yet. Then he notices Jared's side is empty and his head flies up. Jensen can still feel the heat of Jared's body on his so he must not have gone too far.

Just then their en suite bathroom door opens, and Jared comes out wearing nothing but his boxers. “Hey, you finally awake, sleepy head?”

“Define ‘awake’,” Jensen huffs, rolling on his back to sit up. “What time is it?”

“Quarter past six.” Jared sits on his side of the bed.

“Jesus, Jared, why are you awake so damn early?”

“I had to pee?” Jared tries.

Jensen raises an eyebrow.

“I couldn't sleep.”

Now Jensen's brows furrow. “Something wrong?”

“No.” Jared bites his lower lip. “I want to give you something.”

“Oh.” Jensen doesn't understand why that would make Jared nervous. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes,”

“Seriously?”

“Just for a minute.”

Jensen huffs but closes his eyes. He hears Jared moving on the bed and then a drawer opening and closing.

“Okay, open them now.”

When Jensen does there's a black box sitting between them. “What's that?”

“Open it.”

Jensen reaches for the box and brings it closer. He pops the lid and almost swallows his tongue. “Rings?” he whispers, faintly, staring at the gleaming curves of gold with a black band.

“You're going to be away on tour soon, and while I'll try to meet you in some of the cities, our schedules are bound to clash once in a while.” Jared explains. “The idea of being without you for long is not something I'm looking forward to, and I know you aren't either.”

Jensen nods. If he could, he would only tour in the States so he can be closer to Jared.

“So, I thought about getting something to hold us together through the distance, and what better than rings?” Jared takes the box out of Jensen's hand. “That way every time you look at your hand it'll be a reminder that I'm here waiting for you, and I'll remember that you're coming back.”

Jensen's eyes burn and he swallows the knot in his throat. “I like that.”

Jared beams and takes one of the rings. “Give me your hand.” When Jensen does, Jared slips the ring on. “With this ring I'm promising you that you've got my body, my heart, and my soul. Forever."

Jensen doesn’t think he could smile any wider, a couple of tears escaping his eyes. He sucks in a calming breath and takes the other ring out of the box, motioning for Jared to give him his left hand, and slips the ring on. “With this ring I'm also promising you that you've got my body, my heart, and my soul. Forever."

Jared rushes to kiss him, and Jensen kisses him back, laughing in-between because he can't believe he's this happy.

“What did I do to get so lucky?”

“You must have been a saint in your previous life,” Jared mocks and promptly barrels over a giggling Jensen deep into the soft mattress with the weight of his body.

Yeah, he totally must have been.

 

 

**~FIN~**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ♥


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